


World Goes 'Round By Misunderstanding

by queerly_it_is



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Dirty Talk, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstanding, Mpreg, Older Man/Younger Man, Pheromones, Pining, Schmoop, Teenage Parents, Top Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_it_is/pseuds/queerly_it_is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen and Jared love each other, but neither of them knows that. Jensen goes into heat and seeks out Jared, who gives in to what’s he’s ashamed of wanting. Jared calls Jensen’s parents who make a deal with Jared that they don’t see fit to inform Jensen of, and matters only get worse when Jensen finds out he’s pregnant and runs away from home to keep his baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Goes 'Round By Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a kink_meme prompt on LJ.

The first time that Jensen finds out he's a beta; he’s thirteen, and Mr Padalecki - _"call me Jared"_ \- has just moved in across the street. The sudden rush of unfamiliar wet heat to his stomach and down between his legs, along with the pounding of his heart and the hitching of his breath; prompts him to tug on his momma’s pant leg and tell her _“Think m‘sick, momma.”_  
  
The doctor immediately figures out that Jensen _isn’t_ sick; he’s going into puberty, and he‘s a beta. His momma hugs him tight in the small exam room that smells of cleanser and old magazines; and mumbles something about grandbabies into his hair.  
  
When he’s fourteen, his papa - looking _so_ uncomfortable he’s actually sweating through his shirt collar - sits Jensen down and tells him all about the ‘facts of life’; about alphas and betas and the kinds of things men and women (or men and men, or women and women) can do when they _“love each other very much”_.  
  
His papa tells him that male betas - _“like you, son”_ \- can have children like women can. He explains what ‘heat’ means and how important it is to be _careful_ ; that he shouldn’t start thinking about _doing_ stuff like this until he’s old enough and gets married like his parents.  
  
Jensen sits perfectly still in their too-quiet, sun-drenched living room, perched on the edge of the squishy couch as his papa avoids his eyes; rubs a hand absently over his belly; and thinks about Jared.  
  
For someone so much older than Jensen - he‘s twenty-six, Jensen knows, because he asked - Jared is surprisingly easy to talk to; he always waves if Jensen does, always smiles - he has a really nice smile - when he sees Jensen on his bike or walking to school. He’s this giant, affectionate guy that doesn’t act anything like the alphas Jensen’s seen on TV, or in that dirty magazine Billy Watkins stole from his brother, and showed him behind the cafeteria that one time. He’s just _really_ nice; to everyone; but Jensen sometimes thinks Jared’s smile is maybe a little wider for him than anyone else.  
  
It takes him a while to figure out that he _likes_ Jared probably more than he’s supposed to.  
  
When he’s fifteen; Jensen goes into heat for the first time. It’s almost unbearable; the need for _something_ that he can’t find the words for and doesn’t know how to get, feeling of ants crawling on his skin and fire heating up his blood, unable to concentrate or sit still. He spends nearly a week shut away in his room; musky smell of the slick running down his legs almost overpowering the ones of sweat and come. His momma brings him juice and food that he barely eats, while he paces around the room and thrashes in the sheets as he jerks off furiously, despite the chafing on his skin and the lack of relief it provides him.  
  
When it’s _finally_ over, he showers for about an hour and a half, and then rides his bike as many times around the neighbourhood as it takes for the cabin fever to go away. He’s sweating and his legs are burning; but he’s _outside_ and his skin doesn’t feel too tight anymore, and then he’s sees Jared and his two giant dogs - that look stupidly average-sized next to him - jogging down the sidewalk.  
  
“Hey Jared!” He all but yells, skidding to a halt, little-kid excitement in full force despite how much he always wants to sound grown up for Jared, like it’ll somehow counteract the height difference or his freckled baby-face.  
  
“Jensen, hey!” That wide, dimpled _smile_ again, stomach flip-flopping and thank _God_ his face is already red from the exercise. Jared looks _awesome_ ; hair and tank top both damp where he’s been running, outline of muscle _everywhere_ , strong legs in black shorts, tendons in his thick arms flexing as he tugs on the leashes in his big, long-fingered hands.  
  
His heat _is_ over, right?  
  
“Haven’t seen you in a while, buddy.” Jared says as he looks him over, like he’s checking for a cast or bruises or something. Jensen tries really hard not to fidget under the attention; tamps down on the urge to sit straighter and puff himself up like a bird.  
  
“Yeah, I uh. I was. Just that time a’year, y’know?” Head ducking and face burning at the freaking _stupid_ way of putting it, but it’s not like he’s gonna _tell_ Jared that he was locked in his room leaking like a sieve while he rubbed himself off thinking about him, about how _big_ Jared is all over.

 

Jared’s face scrunches a little adorably in confusion, before his bluish, slanted eyes widen and he does this really distracting drag with his tongue across his lower lip as he takes in a giant breath through his nose.  
  
“ _Oh_. Well, uh. Glad you’re okay.” His voice sounds a little weird, but the smile is back so Jensen can’t really focus on it.  
  
Then suddenly he’s talking about the dogs needing water and work he has to do, and then he’s gone, while Jensen just kinda stands there and stares at his retreating back - and his ass, and his legs - as he heads into the house, door slamming shut behind him.  
  
Jensen probably needs to go jerk off again.

 

********

  
Jared could fucking _kick_ himself.  
  
In fact, he should probably just drown himself in the bathtub and get it over with. Maybe take the toaster with him for good measure.  
  


He blames his lack of realisation on the way Jensen had been all flushed and panting and grinning ear-to-ear, and _fuck_ even the memory of that image is enough to have him twitching in his shorts; surge of _want_ only made stronger by the slight twinge of guilt that grips his stomach and lies sour under his tongue.  
  
Jensen was in _heat_.  
  
He groans at the thought, unable to keep himself from grinding the heel of his palm into his crotch in an attempt to relieve the pressure. _Christ_ there has to be something wrong with him that he’s this twisted up over a damned _kid_.  
  
Except Jensen _isn’t_ just a kid. Jensen isn’t _just_ anything. And that’s exactly the problem.  
  
He remembers the week he’d moved here over two years ago; truck still full of boxes and bags and crates; when out of nowhere had come this energetic bundle of green eyes and freckles and _lips_ ; who’d stuck his hand out with a grin and said _“Hi! I‘m Jensen. I‘m gonna be a beta!”_ the same way kids tell adults what they’re gonna do for a living when they get older. Jared had been torn between laughing, and falling all over himself like he hadn’t done since his last big growth spurt at seventeen.  
  
Jensen’s mother had been quick to apologise; explained that they’d literally _just_ found out he was a beta, and Jensen was a touch overexcited and didn’t really understand that people don’t tend to include that information along with a first handshake. Jared had just tried to wave it off and ignore the lingering warmth sitting somewhere below his navel.  
  
It’d been downhill from there, really. Seemed like wherever he went Jensen would show up in some form or another; on that green bike that made the colour of his eyes stand out to an almost preternatural degree, or with his friends, or - and this is where the stab of burning arousal and bitter guilt comes back - in his _school uniform_ that still makes every blood cell in Jared’s body flood somewhere distinctly inappropriate.  
  


They’ve had dozens - hundreds - of conversations since then, and Jared is unceasingly amazed by how quick-witted Jensen is, how easy it is to forget his age in the space of a few well-phrased sentences and keen observations.

  
Now Jensen is fifteen, and he’s nearly six-feet tall already, he’s been gaining muscle and looking more and more like something out of a particularly wet dream, and Jared is finding it harder to remember that Jensen is _a_ beta, not _his_ beta. Jensen isn’t _his_ anything.  
  
He stamps down on the grating disappointment and jerks off in the shower, left hand squeezing his knot as he soaks the tile wall with ropey come, Jensen‘s name gasped like a prayer.  
  
Jared loves his job, he really does. He likes that working from home means he can keep his own hours, and not have a boss breathing down his neck every day. He likes that he can take afternoons off to go to the park with his dogs, and he likes that he can sleep in and not feel too guilty about it. The only problem is that his desk sits below the big window of his study, which happens to look down over the street, and he can’t seem to stop himself from putting down his pen and watching Jensen walk to school in the morning, and then again as he walks home in the afternoon; every inch the pathetic mooning creeper he feels when Jensen smiles at him and all Jared can think is _mate_.

 

If he’s totally honest, he gave up trying to stop himself a while ago.

 

********

 

Jensen goes into heat twice more before he turns sixteen, and each time he spends days jittery and on-edge even _before_ the hormones suddenly kick in, and _then_ he feels like he’s gonna lose his freaking mind unless he gets some form of release; climbing the walls and snapping at anyone dumb enough to try and talk to him when he’s locked in his room with one hand on his dick and three fingers in his ass. He’s done his reading - which, okay _maybe_ involved some online porn when his folks were out - since that first time, and he _knows_ now what it is his body’s craving, what that insatiable feeling of _emptiness_ is; but like hell is he gonna get it when he’s fifteen, and the only alpha he’s even remotely attracted to is more than ten years older, and probably thinks of him like a little brother or something.  
  
That doesn’t make the fantasies go away, though.  
  
He knows there are… _things_ …you can buy online and from the backs of skin mags, things meant to help single betas in heat that don’t wanna slut around to a dangerous extent three times a year; but c’mon; his _momma_ cleans his room - mainly ‘cos he never does, but still - and the thought of her reaction to a _knotted dildo_ hidden under his mattress or in the back of a drawer makes him wanna go find a rock to hide under.  
  
That kind of rational thinking is _really_ hard to remember when he’s in heat, though; pure _need_ making him wanna claw at his skin and run for miles and rut against the sweat-soaked sheets beneath him, every perverted thought about the older alpha playing like mental porn every minute of the day.  
  
It’d probably help if Jared wasn’t always so damn _friendly_. He patted Jensen on the back with one of those big paws a’his the other day, all dimples and smooth, deep Texas accent; and Jensen had damn near climbed him like a tree; alpha scent of musk and something woodsy filling his nose, like curls of smoke sending heat arrowing to his groin.  
  
His stupid body wants to read things into the singularly-focused way Jared sometimes looks at him that just aren’t _real_. Wants to believe that when Jared’s pupils change and his nostrils flare it’s because of _him_ , and not some instinctive response to a beta approaching their heat.  
  
Mother Nature; Jensen decides; is really kind of a bitch.  
  
The weekend after his sixteenth birthday is spent on a camping trip with a few of his friends; and Chris somehow manages to smuggle in a bag of weed that makes Jensen giggle like a pre-teen girl at his friend’s stupid jokes, in-between bouts of staring at the stars and the overwhelming urge to eat a whole loaf of white bread. They sit around a rather unsafe-looking campfire and talk about guys and girls and sex; a discussion Jensen _never_ wants to have again while Misha is trying to build an anatomically correct donkey out of sticks right next to him.  
  
“So, Jen.” Chris says for the third time in a row; like the words are a small circle he can’t get out of. “When’re you gonna jump that Jared guy?” Last few words muffled around the joint he’s placed between his lips; stark line of white ending in a flare of red that bobs as he talks.  
  
“Dude, _never_. He’s like, nearly half my _dad’s_ age.” Trying for outrage to cover the pathetic Pavlovian response he has to Jared’s name.  
  
“So? Not like he _is_ your dad.” Said like that solves the whole problem, stoner logic going full steam.  
  
“My parents would ship me off to military school the second they found out I‘d even _looked_ at him funny. _After_ they had Jared arrested.” The thought of the big kind-hearted alpha being led away in handcuffs by the cops makes him wanna hurl.  
  
“ _If_ they found out, Jen, _if_. You got a lot to learn about sneakin’ around if you ever wanna get laid.” Grey smoke filtering out of his smirking mouth as he talks.  
  
“Dude I’m just a kid to him, he isn’t gonna mate with _me_ when he could get someone his own age, or a girl, or whatever else he wants.” Doing his best not to sound bitter, probably fails miserably.  
  
“Well you ain’t gonna find out if you keep being too much of a pussy to actually _try_.” Eyes twinkling in the firelight as his friend smirks at him, like being seventeen gives you all the answers to every problem in the universe.  
  
Jensen just flips him off and helps Misha build his donkey.

 

The first time he goes into heat at sixteen has to be the worst one yet; he feels like he’s actually _on_ fire; combusting slowly from the inside as literal _heat_ spreads from somewhere behind his hips outward to the rest of his body. He slams his bedroom door hard enough that a picture frame falls off the wall, and tries to tamp down on the urge to throw something in pure frustration. _Fuck_ , the way this gets described in biology textbooks and online help-sites _never_ makes it sound this bad; like he’s gonna _die_ if he doesn’t get an alpha‘s knot up in him.  
  
The pounding of his heart behind his ribs, the rush of blood in his ears; all seems to whisper _Ja-red, Ja-red_ with every thudding beat, and he can’t fucking _take it anymore_.  
  
He’s standing by the window before he even registers the movement; hands scrabbling at the frame where it’s painted over, heaves and _shoves_ ‘till it shoots open and the rush of fresh, night air hits him; smell of warm asphalt and freedom, noise of cicadas taunting him. He’s never climbed out of his window before, but the old tree outside makes it almost stupidly easy - Chris may have had a point about the sneaking around thing - and he’s on the ground in just a few minutes, landing softly in the grass as gracefully as he can manage when he‘s shivering with adrenaline and _heat_.  
  
He can hear the television through the wall of the family room where his parents are sitting, and he hopes it’s enough to cover the noise of him unlatching the gate and running out of the yard.  
  
He makes across the street to Jared’s house in what feels like a single rushed step; body almost flush with the door as he rings the bell over and over; sounds of barking and paws scrabbling on a wooden floor.  
  
“Just a second!” Shouted from inside the house, somewhere from above him as footfalls hammer down the stairs. “C’mon guys, get back. Out of the way.” Another burst of tingling fire down his spine that ends below his tailbone just from Jared’s _voice_ ; booming and full of command; instinctual beta impulse to submit to an alpha; to _his_ alpha.  
  
Then the door gets flung open, golden light from the hallway framing Jared like a halo; shining through his hair and throwing him into shadow and silhouette. He looks like fire and raw strength and everything Jensen wants for the rest of his fucking _life_.  
  
“Jensen? It’s the middle of the night, man.” Looking at the watch on his wrist like the darkness outside isn’t proof of that, sounding tired even though he isn‘t dressed for bed. Something must be showing on Jensen’s face - or maybe it’s the way he’s tenting out his sweatpants - ’cos Jared steps out of the house and onto the porch a little.  
  
“What’s wrong? You look-” He stops suddenly as his breath judders in through his nose, fumbles backwards toward the open door; one hand suddenly white knuckling the frame. “ _Jesus_ , Jensen, you. You can’t be here right now.” Voice dropping four octaves in one sentence, left knee twitching and bending like he can’t make it lock in place.  
  
“ _Jared_.” It’s his voice, but not like he’s ever heard it sound before; like he’s been gargling with battery acid; mouth watering smell of _alpha_ drifting to him from what he suddenly realises is a barely existent space between them.  
  
Barely existent, but still way too much.  
  
He takes a step forward, and Jared seems to move toward and away from him at the same time; stumbling a little as he tries to avoid tripping over the lip of the door.  
  
“Jensen.” Throat working as he coughs and swallows visibly. “You have to go home, okay. I can’t. You _can’t_ be here.” Jared shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it, hair spilling over his forehead, jaw working and _fuck_ he’s so damn _gorgeous_.  
  
“What if I don’t _wanna_ leave?” Another way he’s never heard himself sound, odd lilt to the words. “What if I’m _exactly_ where I need to be?” Standing practically chest-to-chest with the alpha now, Hand reaching out - only shaking a little, pretty impressive feat he thinks - palm flat and running up Jared’s stomach, past the kettle drum pounding _thump-thump_ in his chest, stops between the muscles underneath his collarbones.  
  
Then suddenly there’s the feeling of cold wall against his back, as Jared spins him ninety-degrees and pins him to the house, looming over him with heat in his eyes and sweat beading at his temples.

 

“You should _really_ push me away.” Words soft and dark and _so_ full of promise as Jared closes the space between them, warm breath on his face and eyes trying not to cross from how Jared is _right fucking there_.  
  
“I _really_ don’t want to.” Trying to let some of how _badly_ he needs this show on his face; eyes locked onto Jared’s with as much defiance as he can summon out of the haze in his mind and the inferno in his belly. Judging by the way Jared’s pupils are now so blown-black the light from the house just seems to get sucked into them, he thinks it’s probably working.  
  
“ _God_ , Jensen. The way you look.” Pointed tip of Jared’s nose running along his jaw, dipping to his neck, inhaling deep and long. “The way you _smell_.” Jared’s soft lips press to his throat, and Jensen makes a noise like the cracked bastard child of a moan and a whimper; hips twitching forward even though Jared has him held sternly against the wall.  
  
“Want you. Fuck, Jared _please_.” Heat in his veins only getting worse as Jared alternates between sucking kisses along his neck and just breathing him in like he’s the only source of air Jared has.  
  
“What, Jensen? Tell me what you want.” Cock twitching _hard_ at the gruff words practically snarled against his skin, and _fuck_ he expects Jensen to answer with _words_ when he’s doing that scrape-drag thing with the blunt ends of his teeth?  
  
“ _You_. God, _fuck_ me. Mate me. _Please_ Jared.” Head thunking back against the brick, words like broken glass in his throat.

 

********

 

Jared _has_ to be dreaming.  
  
No way does he actually have the - admittedly underage - beta of his dreams - and thoughts, and fantasies - pinned outside his front door, begging for his knot like he knows what any of it actually _means_.  
  
Jared should take Jensen home; let his heat pass and then pretend none of this ever happened except for when he’s jerking off.  
  
But Jensen is just pliant and hot and so fucking _wet_ that Jared can smell it through his clothes, leaning back against the wall, neck bared submissively and looking like the filthiest and most dangerous thing Jared has ever seen.  
  
He should send Jensen away. He really should.  
  
Nobody is _that_ much of a martyr.  
  
He doesn’t so much kiss Jensen; as he does fist his hands in the beta’s floppy, blonde hair and just _crush_ their mouths together; tongue parting the boy’s - Christ he’s just a _boy_ \- pretty pink lips and drawing the sweet, heat-strengthened taste of Jensen into himself.  
  
Jensen makes the most amazing noises as Jared just _takes_ his mouth; high moans and jagged whimpers that erode the shreds of Jared’s self-control like waves pounding on rock. He pulls Jensen into him and gets his arms around his waist, hands spanning the cheeks of his round little ass, finding and pressing against the patch of slick soaking through, and _grinds_ them together at the hips, slick-wet sounds of dirty kisses loud in the silent space between his house and the orange glow of streetlamps from the street below.  
  
That’s when he remembers they’re pretty much standing outside, in full view of Jensen’s house; directly opposite the front windows where the light of a television is flickering on the curtains.  
  
Jared should send the beta home to his parents.  
  
“Come inside with me.” Words breathed against Jensen’s mouth as he breaks the kiss, hands sliding over trim hips and up a narrow waist to leanly muscled shoulders, and apparently social responsibility can go fuck itself.  
  
“ _God_ , yeah. Want it. Want you so much.” Trying to clamber up Jared’s body with his hands laced behind his neck, little mewls of frustration and unfocused need spilling from his kiss-bruised mouth.  
  
Jared seriously needs to get them inside.  
  
He all but carries Jensen up the stairs to his bedroom, strong nimble fingers of the beta’s hands scrabbling at his belt as he moves them down the hall and into the comfortable, not-quite-luxurious space of his room. Jensen urges him around with a hand on his shoulder, and Jared gets lost in the young - damnit so fucking young - boy’s mouth again, could probably do this for hours every day and _never_ feel like it was enough.  
  
That’s gonna be a problem, he can tell.

 

He backs up toward the giant, custom-made frame of his bed, spins them around and uses his bigger mass to knock Jensen back onto the mattress, watches him land with a soft bounce and noise of air knocked from his lungs.  
  
He immediately decides that the beta looks _insanely_ good spread out on his sheets; freckles nearly invisible with the flush and sheen of sweat on his skin, eyes wide and bright and so fucking _green_ as he looks up at Jared from his uncoordinated, unconsciously sexy sprawl and _licks his lips_ ; move so sensuous it almost looks planned.  
  
But it isn’t, because Jensen has never done this before.  
  
That thought comes close to making him shoot right inside his jeans before they’ve even started.  
  
Scent of beta heat filling the room and clouding his senses; Jared nods for Jensen to move up the bed as he crawls up after him, ends with his knees bracketing the boy’s thighs and his hands planted on the pillow on either side of his head.  
  
He tries to think of something to say; but with the desperate way Jensen is trying to drag him down on top of him, and the _look_ in those eyes of his, the words just turn to steam in his throat, rising out as a growling moan; note of approval that makes the scent of heat grow even stronger.

 

********

 

Jensen is almost out of his mind. So on edge and full of _want_ he can barely breathe, much less think.  
  
He might like it, just a little bit.  
  
Jared is lowering more and more of his weight down onto him, and with every inch that he’s pressed into the comfortable mattress, the painful twist in his guts at not getting what he needs fades a little more into the background. The hot, almost-biting kisses Jared is laying across his mouth, combined with the drag of his denim-clad cock right over where Jensen is adding a wet patch to the _front_ of his sweats with how much precome he’s leaking, is shoving him so fast toward the cliff-edge of his climax he can’t stop it.  
  
“Gonna come, aren’t you? Come all over yourself, just from rubbing off against me.” Words rumbled so low they’re barely audible as Jared sucks bruises into his neck and toward his collarbone. “Haven’t even _started_ with you yet. So fucking eager.” Said like praise and water falling from his mouth as he grinds his hips down, and Jensen kinda wants to point out that he’s _in heat_ , so of course he’s fucking _eager_ , but then he’s too busy creaming his shorts like the kid he is to get the words out.  
  
The feeling of the wet pulses shooting in his clothes is insanely filthy-hot, completely eclipsed by the way Jared has pulled back, sitting on his haunches to _watch_ as the dark, damp patch spreads across the grey material, and Jensen _really_ didn’t think he could blush any more than he already is.  
  
Okay, he might like it more than a little.  
  
“Such a good boy, Jensen. So good for me. Gonna take such good care’a you.” Muttered absently like he’s not actually talking _to_ Jensen, eyes roving over him like a physical touch.  
  
Then Jensen’s being divested of his shirt and pants and - really sticky - shorts so fast he almost misses it. Jared just flings the clothes off to one side like it’s burning him to hold onto them, and then he’s crossing his arms at the hem of his own tee and lifting it off and _shit_ he’s fucking _huge_ ; planes of solid muscle and smooth brown skin for miles as he undresses quickly, but with this predatory, purposeful grace that’s just so fucking _sexy_.  
  
Soon as they’re both naked; backs of Jensen’s thighs sticking to the sheets where he’s spilling slick like a capsized oil tanker, Jared presses them together from chest to toes; big long-fingered hands lacing with Jensen’s and pressing them into the pillow either side of his head, command in every touch and movement.

 

Jensen is more than okay with that.  
  
“Gonna be _mine_ , Jen.” Not a question, doesn’t need to be.  
  
He gets his legs wrapped around Jared’s tapered waist, crosses his ankles like he’s trying to stop the alpha getting away. The sight of his dick makes every primal nerve in Jensen’s body scream so _loud_ he’s surprised he can’t hear it in the room over their harsh breathing and the pounding of his heart.

 

He’s honestly had more jerk off fantasies about how proportional Jared has to be than he’d ever admit, even to himself; but looking at the way Jared is hard and leaking and so damn _big_ as he curves up toward his belly, makes every one of them seem like a pathetic, pale imitation.  
  
Jared leans his weight forward ‘till he’s blocking out the lamplight, once again outlined by it in the style of some beautiful, erotic artwork; hard lines and smooth curves and Jensen cannot _bear_ being this empty anymore.  
  
“C’mon, God I _need_ it, Jay, c’mon.” Throat so dry it hurts to talk, sound of his own sandpaper-rough voice surprising him. Jared makes a soothing noise like he’s talking to a frantic animal, squeezes Jensen’s fingers where they’re gripping Jared’s tight enough to hurt.  
  
“S’okay, baby. Gonna give you what you need yeah?” He manages to line himself up without loosening the grip that’s holding Jensen to the bed like an insect pinned to cardboard, and thank _fuck_ they don’t have to waste time with lube and prep right now.  
  
The slide of hard flesh into him is _the_ most intense thing he’s _ever_ felt. Too-full and not full enough as Jared works his hips forward slowly, inescapable pressure and slick drag over Jensen’s insides as inch after inch of cock fills him up.  
  
Christ, less than a minute in and he’s already addicted to this.  
  
He doesn’t know how long it takes for Jared to sheath himself inside completely; could be minutes or hours or days from the way every sensation in his body is narrowed to that one point; living, pulsing _heat_ of Jared _inside_ him pushing every thought from his head so thoroughly he probably couldn’t spell his own name.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Jensen. So damn _tight_.” Grind of pelvis like a reflex, muscles and tendons in his forearms flexing as he spasmodically clenches his fingers in Jensen’s.  
  
“So _full_.” Said as he shoves his head back into the pillow and his hips back into Jared’s fucking _perfect_ dick, small movements all he can make with only his upper half on the bed and his arms pinned down. He’s trapped and pretty damn helpless and he really fucking _likes it_.

 

********

 

If there was ever a moment where Jared could’ve stopped this, it’s been set alight and turned to ash by now.  
  
The sight of Jensen spread open around him, so trusting and needy and _beautiful_ as he thrashes his head and _takes it_ , like he never wants anything that isn’t Jared’s cock in him, is _almost_ enough to distract from the hot, wet grip of his ass as he flutters and squeezes so tight it’s almost painful.  
  
Fuck, _Jensen’s_ supposed to be the one in heat, here.  
  
He’s trying to stay still and give Jensen time to adjust, but he can’t help the twitching forward motion of his hips as he fills Jensen up over and over, grinding against him like he can get any deeper than he is already.  
  
It’s not even the physical stuff, which is a _stupid_ thought to have when he’s got this stunning, lithe beta fucking back onto his dick, but it’s the truth. Jensen is _his_ ; every poorly-repressed possessive thought he’s _ever_ had about this boy is stampeding through his mind; how much he wants to keep Jensen here, like this; flushed and glassy-eyed and stuffed full, how badly he wants to make him laugh and see those lines that crease the skin next to his eyes when he smiles, how much he wants to protect him and shelter him and _love_ him.  
  
It’s that last part that makes him twitch inside the grip of his beta’s channel, makes him fuck forward _hard_ to hear the noises he can push from the boy‘s perfect mouth; the knowledge that Jensen _wants_ him, _chose_ him when he could’ve gotten any alpha he wanted. He’s not thinking anything but _Jensen_ over and over, like the haze of oestrus from the beta is travelling into him through every point of contact.  
  
He leans his weight down enough that the beta’s stone-hard, leaking, fucking _pretty_ dick is trapped between them, feel of the head catching and trailing slick-shiny precome over his stomach each time he pulls back. He’s gonna make Jensen come _again_ ; knot him tight and fill him up and _mate_ him.

 

The m-word is what finally sets him off. He shoves forward _hard_ as his knot starts to swell, soothing nonsense spilling from his lips as Jensen whimpers at the too-full push against his insides. He’s trying to hold still, make it easier, but _fuck_ nothing has ever felt so good around his knot, nothing has ever spoken to that stereotypical alpha part of his brain that wants to claim and take and keep.  
  
Jensen makes a murdered groan as he comes to the feel of Jared marking him up from the inside; muscles clenching and squeezing, milking Jared for everything he’s got as he creams the beta so fucking _deep_ he’d be surprised if the boy couldn’t _taste it._

 

********

 

It hurts a little when Jared finally pounds into him and Jensen feels the knot at the base of his cock catch against his hole, but _fuck_ if that sharp note of pain doesn’t make it better.  
  
The first warm-wet rush of come right over that _awesome_ spot inside him is what makes him come the second time; white flashes in his vision as he shoots over the skin of his chest; hot mess sticking between them as Jared rocks gently buried inside him, filling him so completely Jensen can’t imagine wanting anything else for the rest of his life.  
  
The itchy too-tight feeling of his skin is gone, something soothing and warm falling over him as Jared kisses him again; soft press of lips and swipe of tongues as he licks Jensen’s mouth open and fills him even more.  
  
He feels _content_ in a way he never has; like he’s been struggling against a current for years and has only now figured out how to swim, to keep his head above water and actually _breathe_. He wants to sleep for days and kiss for hours and keep Jared right here over him, body warm and sheltering and stuffing him full.  
  
“So _good_ , Jared. S’perfect.” Has to say _something_ , feels like he’s gonna burst if he doesn’t. His voice is no less wrecked than before, but it’s less obvious with how the words are breathed against Jared’s skin, where their sweat-damp foreheads are pressed together, and Jared makes a deep humming noise in reply that Jensen feels right down to his bone marrow.  
  
Jared’s still coming in small bursts, and Jensen can feel the heat of it inside him counteracting the insistent _need_ of his cycle.  
  
He’s thrumming with aftershocks and post-orgasmic exhaustion, and despite how badly he wants to feel every second of this, he can’t help the heavy weight of his eyelids as they slide shut, breath shuddering from his lungs in relief as he falls asleep in the arms of his _mate_.  
  
The next thing he feels is his body shaking on the bed as someone grips his shoulder.  
  
Through the sore feeling in his limbs and the fucked-out buzz in his head, he vaguely realises that the voice calling out his name belong to his dad.  
  
The _only_ way that makes sense is if he’s just had the most photorealistic wet dream of his entire life.  
  
But when he opens his eyes, he’s not in his room; he’s still in Jared’s. The sheets are up over his waist, and he doesn’t feel wet and gross like he’d expected, but that doesn’t explain what the everloving _fuck_ his _dad_ is doing in here right now.  
  
“Get your clothes, we’re going home.” All he says once he registers that Jensen is conscious; voice flat and no real emotion in the words at all. Then he’s standing away from the bed, eyes everywhere but actually _on_ Jensen, turning and practically stomping from the room.  
  
Jensen is kinda glad for the slowly returning burn of his heat when every cell and organ in his body goes ice-cold.  
  
Jared isn’t anywhere in the room.  
  
Getting dressed in just his shirt and sweatpants, he crumples the still-damp shorts into a pocket, and tries to quell the panic building in his chest and the vague, unjustified sense of shame in his gut.  
  
He heads downstairs into the long hallway, not registering the details of Jared’s place any more than he had on the way in, albeit for much less pleasant reasons this time.  
  
His parents are standing awkwardly by the door, and a glance to one side shows Jared in the living room, standing rigid as a statue and facing the windows, features in profile and set in stone. In all the time Jensen has known Jared, he’s _never_ seen him this tense.  
  
His insides get colder.

 

For all that the walk _to_ Jared’s house had seemed like a split-second; the walk _back_ takes about a thousand years. His parents silently keep pace with him; flanking him like he’s gonna make a run for it. He’s doing his absolute best to hide the limp in his gait, but it’s not easy, and worse is the helpless and painful sense of _loss_ sitting on his shoulders and in his stomach like solid lead; the stinging in his eyes and the clogging in his sinuses.  
  
It’s possible that he’s completely fucked up his life, here.  
  
His parents don’t say one word to him as they go inside and he absently follows them to the kitchen. They don’t look at him, don’t yell, don’t even bother telling him how obviously disappointed or disgusted they are.  
  
At least they aren’t calling the cops. Yet.  
  
He trails out of the room and goes upstairs to shower; where at least the hiss of running water covers the sound of him sobbing as the pain bends him in two and he curls over on himself; and the tears on his face could just as easily be spray from the showerhead.  
  
He leaves his clothes on the bathroom floor, can’t bring himself to do anything with them. Should probably just throw them out. Burn them, maybe; some kinda twisted poetic justice.  
  
Going into his room, he notices the window is still open; chill in the air and breeze ruffling the curtains. He shuts it, and stands there just staring out at the house across the street, can vaguely make out Jared’s towering form still exactly where they’d left him in his living room.

  
He falls into bed and tries to sleep; ends up mashing his face into the pillow as he soaks it with the salt water from his eyes and the saliva from his mouth as he bites down on it to keep from screaming.  
  
The _fuck_ has he gone and done?  
  
His heat lasts two more days; mercifully cut short because of the mating - the _sex_ \- but still enough to make him hard and slick from the inside. He ignores it. Can’t stand the thought of touching himself; knows he couldn’t summon a single thought that wouldn’t involve Jared if he tried to relieve the urge.  
  
When it’s over; he spends an hour talking himself into, and then out of going to see Jared, to try and...Well he doesn’t _know_ , really. Explain himself? Demand an explanation for calling his parents? Beg forgiveness? Beg for something _else_ that he apparently has no right to?  
  
He finally waits until the following Saturday, when Jared takes his dogs for their morning run before he goes to talk to him; figures that’ll at least cut down on the odds of getting a door slammed in his face.  
  
He still throws up beforehand.  
  
He isn’t _sneaking up on Jared_ , exactly, but the alpha runs with earphones in, so Jensen still ends up startling him when he turns onto the street and sees him standing there.  
  
The look on his face is some dreadful mixture of awkwardness and fear, maybe irritation; all things Jared has _never_ directed at him.  
  
He might throw up again.  
  
“J-Jensen. Are you. What do you want?” Face cycling through too many expressions to keep track of; starts with concern and goes rapidly downhill.  
  
“I wanted. I _needed_ to talk to you. About the. About-” Bumbling suddenly cut off.  
  
“Look, Jensen, I get it, but. This isn’t a good idea, okay? Go home.” Lines of tension on his forehead, crease between his eyebrows as he talks, like he’s getting a headache.  
  
“But I-”  
  
“ _Go home_ , Jensen, please. I can’t talk to you right now, okay?” Pleading on his face, desperation in his voice, and Jensen’s legs are useless weights that anchor him to the sidewalk as Jared moves carefully around him in a wide berth and jogs up to his house.  
  
He’s inside and gone from view before Jensen can process _any_ of what just happened.  
  
Oh he’s definitely gonna throw up again.

 

********

 

Jared falls back against the closed door with a sigh and the feel of a pounding headache about to start as he clenches his eyes shut. The dogs give a faint whine like they know something’s wrong, but he can’t make his voice work to comfort them, thoughts full of self-recrimination; whether at letting it actually come to this, or at doing the awful and sensible thing in calling Jensen‘s parents, he isn't sure.  
  
He knows he _has_ to do this. It’s the only way him and Jensen will have even the slightest chance at what he _knows_ would be something incredible; something permanent.  
  
That doesn’t make the sick feeling go away, though; image of Jensen - his _mate_ \- looking so _lost_ and alone as he’d stuttered through his attempt to talk to him.  
  
Jared had wanted so _badly_ to just wrap his arms around him, tuck his head under his chin and feel the tenseness go out of his body, but he _can’t_.  
  
He made a promise, a deal; and thoughts of police reports and potential jail time aside, he _can’t_ lose Jensen.  
  
That’s gonna be his new mantra, he thinks.

 

********

 

It goes on for weeks, which then turn into a month, which becomes two months, and is almost three before Jensen can manage to catch his breath.  
  
Jared _still_ won’t talk to him.  
  
Jensen stopped trying to make him a while ago.  
  
He gets it now; that he pretty much _date-raped_ Jared with heat pheromones and needy whining; and if he wasn’t throwing up almost every morning anyway; _that_ thought’d probably get him going again. He still has these _stupid_ , unrequited feelings for the alpha, which aren’t helped by the fevered dreams he keeps having of Jared spreading him out on cool sheets and sliding deep into him; missing piece that slots into place, completes him.  
  
Those dreams are probably what’s making him sick, he thinks.  
  
His parents are talking to him, at least, but it’s still strained and a little awkward whenever the conversation dies down; like they aren’t sure how to deal with him anymore.  
  
He hasn’t felt like himself in months; ever since that last heat ended. His appetite is all over the place; starving one minute and queasy at the mere _mention_ of food the next. He’s been woken up with heartburn twice in the last week, and he’s got all this nervous energy he can’t seem to get rid of.  
  
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of Chris’ bedroom, watching his friend tune his guitar as he jiggles his foot against the carpet and tries to ignore the familiar hint of nausea in his belly that never seems to go away completely.  
  
“Dude, what’s _with_ you lately? You’re all…” He makes a vague waving motion at Jensen‘s jittery leg. “Every time I see you it’s like you’re either gonna hurl or shake apart.” He actually looks a little worried, and Jensen feels like an ass for not really talking to Chris much, lately.

 

He hasn’t really been talking to anyone, lately.  
  
“I’ve been. _Christ_ I dunno, man. I’ve felt like crap ever since the whole mess with Jared. Throwing up and not sleeping. S’probably just stress or somethin’.” Sighing as he runs a hand over his face, frown line getting deeper between Chris’ sharp blue eyes.  
  
“Jen, I. I don’t wanna pry here, but. When you and Jared.” Crude hand gesture that would’ve made Jensen laugh if his guts weren’t doing summersaults somewhere near his feet. “Were you, y’know. _Safe_?” Takes Jensen a minute to figure out what that non-wordy question was supposed to mean, and then he can _feel_ the blood leave his face as his eyes widen and he goes cold all over.  
  
“Aw hell, Jen.” All Chris says at whatever is showing in Jensen’s expression, face twisting in sympathy, and Jensen can’t speak, can’t _think_.  
  
He’s _such_ a fucking _idiot_.  
  
Taking a goddamn _pregnancy test_ in his best friends bathroom, while said friend leans against the door outside, is probably the most surreal thing he's _ever_ done.  
  
That feeling only gets worse when the test comes up positive.

 

He walks home that evening like a zombie; barely getting inside before the curfew his parents imposed on him (once they could bring themselves to actually _look_ at him again).  
  
He somehow gets up the stairs and into his room, lets his chin drop to his chest as he stands among all the memories and knick knacks of his childhood.  
  
The childhood he isn’t even finished with yet.  
  
He’s a fucking _kid_ , for Christ’s sake. How’s he gonna have a baby? _Raise_ a baby, another _person_?  
  
It just doesn’t seem _real_. It can’t be. He isn’t _ready_ for this.  
  
What can he do?  
  
Well, he knows what he _could_ do, but there’s no way in hell he can make himself do it. He does biology at school; he’s read every scrap of reliable information online, he _knows_ male abortion is a lot more risky; and even if it weren’t, there’s some deep-seated impulse in the back of his mind telling him that he _can’t_.  
  
The thought of his parents finding out makes him wanna tear his hair out. He can’t _hide_ this. He’s at least eleven weeks along; he’s already showing enough signs that _Chris_ put it together in all of five minutes, his parents are bound to notice sooner or later.  
  
They’ll make him give it up.  
  
A small sound gets ripped from him with that thought; wet and broken and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent room.  
  
They’re gonna take his baby away from him.  
  
He shouldn’t be thinking like this; like it’s already a person that he knows and is gonna keep and raise and lo-  
  
He shouldn’t be thinking like this.  
  
He can’t help it.  
  
He’s pacing now, hands gripping at his hair but not tugging it out - _yet_ \- trying to sort out any of the million terrifying possibilities in his head that all end the same way.  
  
He can’t let them take his baby.  
  
His feet stall mid-stride across the carpet. The thought just rose up and bobbed to the surface; buoy in water, and now he can’t shake free of it.  
  
He _can’t_ let them take his baby.  
  
Not letting himself really consider the consequences of what he’s about to do; he pulls the old gym bag from under his bed, starts haphazardly throwing clothes into it; random stuff from his drawers and the back of his closet; doesn't know what he's gonna need. He forces the zipper shut, looks around the room, feeling like it’ll be the last time, and heads for the stupid window again.  
  
His parents were gonna put a lock on it, but something about the way his whole body’d crumpled when they'd said it must've sparked some small amount of pity, since it grudgingly slides open when he shoves it upwards into the frame.  
  
He climbs halfway down the tree, lets his bag fall to the ground with a muffled _thump_ on the grass, and drops down next to it.  
  
He’s not sure where he’s going this time, but he at least has to _try_ and talk to Jared first.  
  
It’s his baby too, after all.  
  
He drops the bag at the bottom of the steps, walks up them to Jared’s front door; memories of _last time_ running like a home movie in his head. He finally forces his arm up and knocks on the wood, then again when there’s no response other than the sound of barking dogs.  
  
He knows Jared’s home; the lights are on, muffled sounds of television coming from inside somewhere.  
  
“Jared?” Voice so pathetic he winces. “Jared I. I need to talk to you, okay? Please?” Last word broken as he tries not to start crying _again_. No answer. “Please Jared, it’s really important.” Forehead dropping to the door, tingle-itch of a tear down one cheek, backs of his eyes stinging.  
  
No answer. The dogs are quiet, now.  
  
He lets out a sigh that makes him feel _so_ much older than sixteen, then heads down the steps and hefts his bag; _stupid_ random-ass thought about how pregnant people aren’t supposed to do heavy lifting causing an almost-hysterical sob to burst free. He looks between his house and Jared’s; practically different worlds; and he doesn’t belong in either of them, anymore.  
  
Just shoving one foot in front of other, he moves down the street; whole life in a ragged duffle, no destination and not a whole lotta hope.

 

********

 

Jared is standing in his hallway for what feels like the hundredth time in the last two months; bent over at the waist with one hand on his thigh and another on the wall as he heaves in air through his nose, and tries not to fling the door open and run after Jensen.  
  
Christ, but the way his mate’d _sounded_ had made Jared feel like he’d been stabbed; sharp pain digging into his chest and stealing his breath, every nerve and muscle in his body _screaming_ at him to fix whatever had Jensen that upset.  
  
Except he _knows_ why, and there’s nothing he can do that won’t destroy whatever they have for good.  
  
He _can’t_ talk to Jensen. If he has to look him in his endless green eyes, tries to say _anything_ to him; then Jared’s gonna lose whatever thin strands of control he’s barely holding onto, and the whole thing will fall apart; and then Jensen’s parents will _never_ let him near his mate again.  
  
That reminder doesn’t help right now. Not in the slightest.  
  
He understands the _need_ Jensen feels to close the gap between them; and maybe the pop psychology’s right and beta’s _do_ feel things deeper than alphas or whatever; but _why_ can’t he just _wait_ \- painful as it is, and _fuck_ it’s so goddamn _painful_ \- until they can actually _be together_ , properly and without interference. This yoyo act is just slowly killing them both.  
  
He’s trying not to hate Jensen’s parents for this, he really is. That isn’t helping either.  
  
He’s under no delusion that Jensen _isn’t_ too young for this right now; he’s sixteen years to Jared’s twenty-eight, of _course_ he’s too fucking young, made all the worse by the fact that their first time together had been during Jensen’s heat. But he _loves_ Jensen, loves him with a frightening kind of intensity that he honestly didn’t know he was capable of; and hearing him so obviously hurting over their separation makes him feel like a failure as an alpha; as a man, as a mate, with _everything_ he is.  
  
As much as he _wants_ to hate Jensen’s parents for insisting on this; to just shove all of the blame off on them, he knows this is _his_ fault, not theirs, and certainly not Jensen’s. He _chose_ to let Jensen in that night, to bind them together, and then call his parents when he’d realised what he’d let himself do.  
  
He remembers being a teenager himself; remembers his dad sitting him down when he’d first popped his knot at fifteen, and explaining that being someone’s mate was the greatest thing an alpha could _ever_ do for another person; that giving someone that deep, primal _connection_ was a privilege to be cherished; not a right to be demanded or abused.  
  
He looks at what he’s done to the most beautiful, kind and sweet young man he’s _ever_ known, and thinks his dad would probably be pretty fucking ashamed of him. He can’t say he’d disagree with him, either.  
  
He pulls his hand back and slams it into the wall, hard enough it cracks the drywall and nearly breaks his knuckles. It doesn’t help, but the pain is something to focus on, at least.  
  
He goes to bed and tries not to replay the sounds of Jensen _crying_ against his front door; the utter lack of anything even _resembling_ happiness or contentment in the beta‘s voice. He tries not to play out imaginary scenarios where he’d opened the door like the desperate, fucking shamefully _selfish_ bastard that he is and pulled Jensen to him and done whatever it would’ve taken to soothe him. He just tries not to _think_ at all.  
  
Seems he’s failing on a lotta fronts, these days.  
  
He doesn’t get another visit from Jensen for three days, and while that’s not really a long time; the finality of the way Jensen had left; how broken he’d sounded; makes him feel every minute passing, like he’s watching sand trickle slowly through an hourglass.  
  
That’s when the cops show up.

 

The banging from downstairs drags him out of bed on yet _another_ sleepless night, doesn’t stop until he opens the door in confusion at the red-blue-red-blue flashing against the curtains.  
  
“Mr Padalecki?” Says the blue uniform standing on his front step; features washed-out by the flashlight being shone in his eyes and the lights of the patrol car idling on the street.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Can I help you?” Brain not really operating; late hour combined with weeks of not sleeping enough.  
  
“Do you have a Jensen Ackles here with you?” Way it’s asked says the guy kinda has opinion on the answer already, but Jared can’t care about that with the way his heart has stopped dead.  
  
“W-What? No I. I haven’t seen him in days. You’re telling me he’s _missing_?” Stepping probably too-far into the cop's personal space, but if something’s happened to Jensen, or. _Fuck_ if he’s done something to _himself_ …That’d be it, his life, everything, over.  
  
“Do you have any knowledge of his whereabouts, sir?” Cop apparently not buying the _very real_ concern.  
  
“No! What’s happened? Fuck, what is going _on_?!” Probably not the best idea to yell at the guy with the gun and handcuffs but seriously _fuck_ it.  
  
“His parents reported him missing from their home. The window in his room was opened from the inside, and there are clothes gone from his closet. We're thinking he's a runaway. They _suggested_ that you might have some idea of his whereabouts.” More than _suggestion_ in that last part, and Jared can only _imagine_ what Jensen’s parents would have to say about him, but that’s not _important_ right now.  
  
“I _haven’t seen him_.” Panic-fuelled adrenaline waking him all the way. Something in the frantic way he’s turning on the spot and grabbing at his bed-mussed hair must _finally_ sink in; because the cop lowers his flashlight, and gives him an assessing look.  
  
“Do you know _anywhere_ he might’ve gone?” Jared freezes tries to search his brain for anything _helpful_.  
  
“I. _Fuck_. No, I don’t know. I’m helping you look for him.” Last part said almost to himself as he grabs his keys from the bowl on the side-table, heedless of the sleep shirt and drawstring pants he’s wearing, the slap of his bare feet on the concrete as he darts around the cop and down the steps to his truck.  
  
“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t allow that. This is technically a missing-child case; police only.” Something like pity and maybe even apology in the guy’s voice now.  
  
 _Fuck. That._  
  
“I’m _helping_. I’m not just gonna. He’s. I _have to_.” Last thing he says before he climbs into the truck and slams the door, ignores the protests of the officer standing by his house; heads off with a screech of tires and the roar of the engine.  
  
He’s gonna find his mate.

 

 ******** ****

  
Jensen’s life has pretty much been a sliding scale of crappy experiences lately; but sleeping on a park bench is still another low he’d never expected to feel before his seventeenth birthday.  
  
At least summers in Texas make for warm nights; even if they don’t soften the benches any.  
  
He’s down to about forty bucks hidden in his sock; all he’s got left for food and water before he’ll have to burn whatever rags of pride he’s got wrapped around himself and head for a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen.  
  
He’s a pregnant teenager running away from home; at least the fact that he’s a guy takes some of the edge off the cliché.  
  
He knows his parents will have realised he’s gone by _now_ , mutual avoidance or no. But he didn’t take his cell phone; has no I.D., credit cards or _anything_ that can trace his address, so it’s not likely he’ll get picked up and taken back unless he gets busted for vagrancy or something and just _tells them_ where he lives. Where he _used_ to live.  
  
At least jail cells probably have beds.  
  
He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s made of his life; trying to remember it’s not just _his_ life anymore; that there are two of them in this, now.  
  
At least he’s not _technically_ all by himself.  
  
“What’re we gonna do, huh kiddo?” Words said softly and maybe a little defeated as he lies back on the bench and looks at all the stars above his head; stunning swirls and patterns of white shining through, like holes in a black cloth; hands resting gently on his belly and rubbing softly, like an apology. No answer from the child inside him.  
  
“Yeah, I dunno either.”

 

********

 

Jared is driving for twenty minutes, brain working furiously, before he suddenly flashes back to a warm evening nearly a year ago; when he'd run into Jensen in the park a few miles from their street, carrying a one-man tent and a huge, padded bag with parts of a telescope in it.  
  
 _“I love looking at the stars."_ He’d told Jared, breathtaking little smile on his face. _"Something about how_ small _looking at them makes you feel; like nothing can really be that bad if there’s so much_ else _out there, y’know?”_ Tone full of wonder and face creasing with his smile.  
  
It was one of countless moments when Jared had desperately wanted to kiss him, or hold him; or just say _something_ that would keep Jensen looking at him, talking to him with that light shining in his eyes.  
  
The park.  
  
He swerves in a one-eighty on the - thankfully deserted - road, changing direction from going to Chris Kane’s house to the big open field he‘d been jogging in that day.  
  
Jensen’s there, he can _feel it_.  
  
He goes probably twice the speed limit getting there, and his truck spins in a wide, sluggish arch as he stabs his foot down onto the break pedal, comes to a halt by the tall wooden fence that surrounds the park. He leaves the key in the ignition, doesn’t even shut the door; just gets out and runs into the darkness; moving quickly along the winding footpath as the grey spots clear from his eyes, night vision slowly improving.  
  
He’s most of the way around the edge of the place, now; knots of anxiety in his stomach getting tighter over the idea that maybe Jensen _isn’t_ here.  
  
Then he does a double-take at the big shadow of a pair of legs, sticking out over the end of one of the wooden benches that lies next to the path. His heart skips, and his breath comes out in a rushed, serrated noise that sounds suspiciously like a name.  
  
 _Jensen._  
  
“Jensen!” Echoed from his mouth as he runs over to the slumped form on the seat, relief bursting behind his breastbone like fireworks, or balloons filled with colour.  
  
He gets to the bench; hand reaching out as the guy turns over, and.  
  
It’s not Jensen.  
  
Even in the near-complete blackness of the unlit footpath, he can tell it isn’t the young beta; it’s just a homeless guy; smelling like booze and looking at least thirty-five years too old to be the boy he‘s looking for; tattered beanie covering a greasy mop of hair, unkempt beard hiding a lined and weary set of facial features.  
  
“Whadda you wan’?” Mumbled and slurred with sleep and the influence of alcohol, stench of it hitting Jared like a slap to the face.  
  
“Have you seen a boy? A teenager? Tall; blonde hair, green eyes?” Desperately shaking the bum by the shoulder, trying to keep him focused and prevent him from turning away.  
  
“Nah, man. Nobody here like that.” Annoyance in the tone as he swipes at Jared’s arm, forcing him to let go and take a step back as the man rolls over on his makeshift bed.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
Jensen _isn’t_ here.  
  
He shoves down the panic and the helpless, cold _fear_ he can feel creeping up from somewhere below his lungs; tries to stop his brain playing those three words over and over like a broken record.  
  
Jensen isn’t _here_. But he’s gotta be _somewhere_.  
  
He’s back in his truck and speeding onto the road again as soon as he can make his legs work, replaying every encounter he and Jensen have ever had, looking for some clue or idea as to where the boy would go that he'd think no one would check.  
  
Then he almost bashes his head against the steering wheel as he remembers that there’s _another_ park not far from here, smaller and not as popularly used.  
  
Another line of rubber layered onto the ground behind his wheels, and he's flooring it this time.  
  
Jensen _has_ to be there.  
  
Because Jared is all out of ideas.

 

********

 

Having given up on sleep, what with the way bench is making him periodically numb and achy all over; Jensen is now trying to name every constellation he knows.  
  
He knows them all, so it’s taking a while. Which is exactly the point.  
  
Out of nowhere, he’s almost blinded by a sunrise of headlamps that scrolls across the bench and burns his eyes, pupils contracting painfully even as he squints.  
  
He sits up, thinking of running from what he’s guessing is either the police or a park ranger or something, when the engine-noise cuts off and a familiar voice rings out in the still, night air.  
  
“Jensen?!” _Fuck_ that’s Jared’s voice. What’s he _doing_ here?  
  
“Jensen, oh thank God.” Before he can get a word out, he’s being hauled to his feet and wrapped in the tightest embrace of his life; strong arms pulling him into the alpha’s broad chest, and he can’t help the way he instinctually relaxes as the scent of his _mate_ surrounds him like warm fog, arms coming up around Jared like they‘re on strings pulled from above.  
  
“Jesus Jensen, d’you have _any idea_ how scared I was?” He’s got _some_ idea from the way Jared is shaking like a leaf and his voice is trembling, words muffled against Jensen’s hair but still sounding like he’s about to cry.  
  
Jensen knows just how he feels.  
  
Jared pulls back, hands on Jensen’s waist as his eyes look him over, checking for something.  
  
“Are you okay?” Voice still wet and a little cracked, and Jensen can see the dampness in his eyes where they’re twinkling in the light from Jared’s truck, can just make out the lines of his body shuddering with every breath.  
  
Jensen isn’t sure how to answer him; question leading to all kinds of admissions he isn‘t prepared to face, right now.  
  
“Why are you here?” Question answered with a question, and if he’d managed to sleep for more than two hours at a time since he packed his life into a bag and aimed himself nowhere, he’d probably be a little proud of himself.  
  
“W-Why am I _here_?” Yet another question, asked on shaky breath and said like it’s _not_ the most ludicrous thing ever; coming to the rescue of the guy who drugged him up and slutted into his bed.  
  
“I’m here for _you_ , Jensen. I came to _find you_.” Eyes boring him from the semi-dark, and his brain just can’t latch on to what’s happening here.  
  
“You. _Why_?” Genuine bafflement in the way he asks, honestly doesn’t know. Must’ve been the wrong thing to say though, from the way Jared lets out a broken noise like he’s been punched. Or maybe gutted.  
  
“Because you _ran away_ , Jensen, _fuck_. Did you _honestly_ think I wouldn’t come after you? I was. You can’t just. _Fuck_.” Head jerking to the side like he’s trying to shake the words loose, hands tightening briefly where they‘re resting on Jensen‘s upper arms.  
  
“But I. After what I did, why would you?” Softer spoken, but no less confused.  
  
“What _you_ did?” Frowning so deep Jensen can actually see it even with the tiny amount of light, and it’s either ridiculous or maybe helpful to be having _this_ conversation in an empty park in the middle of the night.  
  
“I. _Christ_ Jared, I practically _raped_ you.” Voice breaking and full of disgrace; first time he’s actually said the words aloud, even to himself. Jared convulses all over like he’s been electrocuted, mouth working soundlessly.  
  
“You. _What?!_ ” Word bursting out of him, mostly air and shock.  
  
“I. C’mon, Jared, I was in heat, you got pulled into what _I_. It was my fault, I know. I’m _sorry_.” Didn’t mean to say that last part, but apparently it’s been percolating somewhere, judging from the way it wrenches out of him on a sob.  
  
“What?” Question pretty much _all_ breath that time, hands running up his neck and cupping Jensen’s face. “Jensen, you. _No_ , okay? You didn’t do _anything_ wrong. I didn’t have to let you in, I let it happen because I. Because I wanted it. _You._ ” Almost-sadness creeps in as he finishes, helpless up-down move of his shoulders, and Jensen is just so _tired_ and confused and maybe thinks he’s dreaming all of this.

 

“Y-You wanted it?” Can’t help parroting the words, like they’ll make more sense if _he_ says them. Another noise, like a sob smashed to bits comes from Jared’s mouth, and _shit_ Jensen just can’t seem to stop hurting him.  
  
“Of _course_ I did. I _still do_. Why d’you think I made that stupid deal with your parents, huh?” Small huffed laugh with zero humour in it, and Jensen _really_ has no clue what he’s talking about.  
  
Something of that must be in evidence on his face, from the way Jared steps closer; even though there’s barely any space between them already.  
  
“You. You _do_ know about the agreement, right?” Edge of worry back in his voice, along with something else, and all Jensen can do is shake his head.  
  
“Di-Didn’t they _tell you_?” That something else apparently anger, though it doesn’t seem to be directed at him. Christ, he’s still about nine steps behind in this conversation.  
  
He just shakes his head, movement stalled by Jared's hands still on his face; but words have only served to make the disorientation worse since Jared showed up.  
  
“Sonova-They. _That’s_ why you- _Fuck!_ ” Startling Jensen with the sudden curse he spits like it’s a foul taste in his mouth. The motion seems to remind him they’re practically nose-to-nose, and he steps back, lets his arms fall to his sides as he visibly tries to calm down.  
  
Jensen would just like to know what the _fuck’s_ going on.

 

********

 

Jared can't recall ever being this angry.  
  
He literally can’t get a single, solitary thought around the red-hot block of seething _rage_ in his head; taste of bile in his throat, insides twist-turning with the strength of it.  
  
Jensen’s _fucking_ parents.  
  
He gulps in a huge breath through his nose, lets it out slow, trying to calm down before he scares Jensen again.  
  
 _God,_ he doesn’t want to scare Jensen, can‘t bear the idea of his mate being afraid of him.  
  
The beta is standing completely still, looking more lost and confused and miserable than Jared has ever seen _anyone_ look. The lights from his truck parked haphazardly behind him made Jensen’s wet eyes glow in the night, almost cat-like; makes his skin look pallid and his freckles stand out everywhere. There are deep bags beneath his eyes; nearly purple where he’s been trying to sleep on a goddamn _park bench_.  
  
Another deep, slow breath.  
  
“Your parents.” He starts, slowly, trying to keep his voice level and quiet in the bubble he and Jensen seem to be in. “When I called them, they. Well to say that they were _pissed_ doesn’t cover it.” Grimace twisting his mouth as he talks, Jensen not reacting, just watching him.  
  
“They, uh. They were gonna call the cops. But I told them about the heat and that I.” Almost says something far too big and important to waste in a place - a moment - like this one. “They agreed that if I stayed away from you; and if you still wanted something more with me when you were old enough, then I’d be allowed to. To date you, I guess.” Words doing so little justice to _anything_ he feels for this boy.  
  
Jensen is still just standing there.  
  
“I thought they'd _tell you_. _God_ Jensen, I’m so sorry.” Moving forward again, body blocking the light and shrouding Jensen’s face. He pulls the beta to him again, can’t not with the way the heartbreaking image of him is burned behind Jared’s eyes.  
  
“I didn’t know.” Words barely audible with his face pressed into Jared‘s shirt, still sounding exhausted and much older than his years should allow, and a splintered, wet, humourless laugh forces itself out of Jared’s throat.  
  
“I know. I’m so, so sorry.” All he can think of to say, grips his mate tighter and rubs his hands down his back, up to his neck and down again; trying to project comfort with every move he makes.  
  
He doesn’t know how long they stand there; two figures outlined against the darkness, but eventually Jensen pulls back and looks up at him; expression unreadable now Jared is blocking the only source of light.  
  
“What now?” Soft and with no small amount of fear; like Jared is just gonna leave him here, all alone.  
  
How many times can his heart break in one night, seriously?  
  
“Come home with me, okay? I’ll. _We’ll_ , figure the rest out later. I’m not leaving you.” Last part said with probably deeper meaning than is sensible right now, doesn’t make him mean it any less.  
  
He’s taking Jensen home, and he’s not letting him go.  
  
Rest of the world can go fuck itself.

 

********

 

Jensen manages to walk to Jared’s truck; still half expecting to wake-up and find himself still on the bench at any moment. Jared keeps one arm around his waist, and the touch is pretty much all he can feel beside how heavy his limbs are and how cotton-stuffed his head feels.  
  
Jared gets him into the passenger’s seat almost by lifting him off the ground, unless that floaty feeling is just from the light-headedness that’s keeping him from focusing.  
  
“Just rest, okay? I’ll get us home and. Well everything else can come later.” Words not making any sense in his addled brain, but he’s always liked the sound of Jared’s voice.  
  
“Well I guess I’d better keep talking then, huh?” Said with a small chuckle and Jensen guesses he must’ve said that out loud.  
  
In the time it takes Jared to start the engine and pull away from the park and onto the road, Jensen drops deeply into a grateful sleep.  
  
The last thing he’s aware of is a gentle kiss being pressed to his cheek.  
  
The _next_ thing he’s aware of is the soft feel of Jared’s bed, and the sound of his dad’s voice, and _there’s_ an unpleasant flashback.  
  
“I want to see him, right now.” At least his dad isn’t _in_ the room, this time.  
  
“Not until he’s ready. You’ve got less than no right to demand _anything_ from me, considering none of this would have happened if not for you.” Wow, he’s never heard Jared sound like that; angry and low and dangerous, alpha-tone in every syllable.  
  
It probably shouldn’t make his cock twitch.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ blame us, after what _you_ did-” His dad’s voice rising until it’s cut off.  
  
“ _Me?!_ ” Crap Jared’s gonna punch-out his dad.  
  
Jensen might let him.  
  
“He _ran away_ because of _you_. He was sleeping on a fucking _park bench_ because of you. He’s _my_ mate, and you have _no idea_ how much damage you’ve caused.” Fuck he has to get out there before they actually come to blows; his dad isn’t a small guy, but Jared is. Well, _Jared_.  
  
He’s still got his shirt and shorts on, so he just bolts into the corridor and down the stairs, follows the sound of the arguing.  
  
They both hear him coming at the same time, and there’s some kind of ridiculous shoving match as to who can get to him first, and _Christ_ maybe the stereotypical alpha thing isn’t so far off.  
  
“Would you two stop it!” Like he’s yelling at squabbling children, rather than two alphas both way older than him. “You’re acting like idiots.” As much admonishment as he can put into the words when he’s _still_ tired, which admittedly is only making him crankier.  
  
“Jensen, are you alright?” His dad stepping forward before Jared can stop him - which he clearly _wants_ to - and pulling him into a hug so forcefully Jensen _almost_ says something about being careful of the pregnant guy.  
  
Fuck.  
  
“M’fine, dad. Really.” Patting him on the back and trying to gently extricate himself before Jared’s growling gets loud enough to be noticed.  
  
Soon as his dad lets him go, Jared is immediately pulling him back in, and okay he’s maybe getting a _little_ annoyed with all the grabbing, now. He lets himself take a deep breath of the calming scent Jared always seems to give off, and lets it out in a long, slow shudder. Jared lets go but doesn’t move away; eyes scanning Jensen's face, giant body like a shield between his dad and him.  
  
Jensen appreciates the thought, but it’s not gonna help smooth things over any.  
  
“How’re you feeling?” Words _so_ gentle and full of caring Jensen can’t help the smile, or the pathetic girly fluttering in his chest.  
  
“I’m okay. Just, don’t be too hard on them, yeah? I’m the idiot who ran away.” Slight feeling of egg-on-the-face now he’s with Jared in a house in broad daylight, rather a pitch-black park with sleep deprivation helping making everything hazy.  
  
“I’ll try.” Jared says, and Jensen just isn’t gonna bother calling him on _how hard_ he’s gonna try. “I’m still not happy about it, though. What if something had happened to you?” Hand on his neck, long fingers almost to the back of his skull, and the way Jared goes from snarling alpha to wet-eyed kicked puppy is really unfair.  
  
“I’m _fine_ , I promise.” Forcing himself to maintain eye contact and not touch his belly.

 

“Where’s mom?” He asks around Jared’s big frame, where his dad is watching with a mixed expression.  
  
“She’s dealing with the police.” Sounding a little sheepish now as his eyes dart to Jared, not in apology; remorse maybe?  
  
“Police?” Eyebrows raised, not sure he really _wants_ to ask.  
  
“They uh. They paid me a visit last night. S’how I knew you were gone.” Jared says, hand going to the back of his own neck; gaze shifting away.  
  
“You called the _police_. On _Jared_.” Disbelief and something like ire but more hysterical.  
  
“We didn’t know where you were; didn’t know if he’d.” Hand waving at Jared like he’s been keeping Jensen in a burlap sack, or tied up in the basement or something.  
  
He'd laugh if he wouldn't sound totally crazy.  
  
“Well you were wrong.” He’ll probably feel bad later about how guilty his dad looks, but the thought of Jared _kidnapping_ him is just too stupid to even be funny.  
  
“You can’t blame them, Jen. I’d have panicked too.” Rather understanding given he was at his dad’s throat a moment ago; but Jensen can’t keep the anger going when he’s this tired and there’s so much recrimination, mutual guilt and residual fear hanging in the air.  
  
“That doesn’t mean they can point you out as some kinda sex-offender.” Words hissed and almost immediately regretted when _both_ men wince.  
  
“They were worried about you; like I was. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have suspected me if I’d been in their place.” Jensen honestly can’t keep track of this conversation.  
  
He just sighs and runs both hands over his face, tries to remember that he’s _sixteen_ not sixty, and that stress probably isn’t good for the baby.  
  
Seriously, _fuck._  
  
He’s also getting really sick of having emotional moments in Jared’s hallway.

 

*********

 

Jared is trying not to usher Jensen back upstairs to where he knows he can keep him safe; somehow doubts the young beta would appreciate it.  
  
“Well. Let’s get you home, son.” Jensen’s father pipes up, word ‘son’ tacked on like he’s a nominee for Father of the Year.  
  
“You're not taking him anywhere.” Spinning on the spot, and if the move just happens to shift him in front of Jensen a little more, then so be it.  
  
“ _‘He’s’_ right here, y’know.” Jared cringes at the tone, but doesn’t turn back, holds his ground.  
  
“He’s _our_ son, and his mother is worried sick, he’s _coming home_.” Other alpha’s voice rising again, but Jared doesn’t the miss the way he isn’t trying to get past him.  
  
“The _home_ he felt so safe in that he had to _run away?_ ” Jared honestly can’t see himself _ever_ getting over that; the sheer _number_ of horrible things that could’ve happened…  
  
“Guys, seriously, let’s not-” Jensen’s voice trying to calm things; instinctual beta reaction to alphas being pig-headed; but Jared just doesn’t _care_ , right now.  
  
“You can’t keep him here, he’s still _underage_.” Word hurled at Jared like a rock, doesn’t let the force of it show on his face, though.  
  
“Hey, I’m _right here._ ” His mate getting more and more frustrated at being ignored, but Jared _can’t let him go_.  
  
“I don’t care. I don’t trust you with him anymore. You _lied_ to him. The _only reason_ he ran away is because he was blaming himself for something that _wasn’t his fault.”_ He’s keeping himself from really yelling by sheer willpower, but honestly if this jackass tries to take Jensen, after what they’ve just been through, he _will_ do something stupid.  
  
“No, Jared, that’s not-”  
  
“It was for the best!” Arms out as the other man gives in to his urge to yell. “How could we know if he’d change his mind, if he thought you were waiting?! It needed to be _his_ choice!” Like _any_ of that is an excuse.  
  
“He didn’t how he _had_ a choice!” Voice echoing now, some primal need to yell _louder_ than the other guy. “You didn’t _tell him_ , you stupid fuck! How was he supposed to decide _anything_ if he thought that I hated him?!” Voice breaking a little on that last part; sounds of Jensen crying against his door replaying _again_.  
  
“We didn’t know that he’d run away! We thought he’d get over it! Why perpetuate the problem by telling him you’d wait?!” Fucking _stupid_ circular logic, and Jared _really_ wants to hit him.  
  
“That’s not why I ran away!” His mate’s voice ringing out. Everything goes eerily still as they turn to look at Jensen.  
  
“I ran away because I’m pregnant.” Words quieter and reluctant under the gaze of the two angry alphas, and everything goes from eerie stillness to absolute silence.

 

********

 

Jensen would really like to disappear into the floor forever and ever, please.  
  
There _had_ to’ve been a better way to stall the punch Jared was about to throw, but _fuck_ he’d only had a split-second and he panicked.  
  
Jared thinks this is his parent’s fault, his parent’s think it’s Jared’s fault, Jensen blames himself; and apparently nobody even knows what the _fuck_ they’re all arguing about.  
  
That hysterical urge to laugh until someone puts him in a straightjacket is coming back.  
  
His dad has gone the same pale cream as the wall he’s standing beside; like he’s trying futilely to camouflage himself. Jared is just frozen there; mouth slightly open, eyes wide and shocked and full of a thousand things Jensen can’t give name to.  
  
Into the floor. If possible directly through to China.  
  
“Yo-You’re pregnant?” Jared finds the power of speech first, but it still comes out with all the strength of a soft breeze; shaky and fragile.  
  
“I. Yeah.” He’s fighting the urge to apologise; reaction even more shaming than the hysterical giggling he’s shoving down.  
  
“You’re _sure?”_ He supposes it needed to be asked, but it still hurts to have his dad question if he’s certain there’s a _baby growing inside him_ ; like that’s a mistake he makes all the time.  
  
“I’m sure. I took a test at Chris’ place.” Some twist in Jared’s face at that, and so help him if Jared makes a possessive jealous comment _now_ , Jensen’s gonna lose it.  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” So sincere and unexpected and packed with so little force that it hits him like a speeding train. Jared’s arms are twitching at his sides, hands spasming like he wants to do another grapple-hug but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.  
  
“Me too.” Equally muted; looking at the source of what feels like every tangled emotion he’s ever had.  
  
“Well you can’t be thinking of keeping it.” Not a question, or a request, or anything with even the slightest hint of a choice in it; and Jensen can‘t bear to look at his dad‘s face, now.  
  
“That’s up to him.” Jared turning to the other man; not shouting, but its said with so much natural authority Jensen is glad Jared can’t see him drop his head a little in reflex.  
  
“He’s _sixteen_ ; we’re legally responsible for him.” God, he thinks _that’s_ the right tack to take with Jared?  
  
“You can’t even be _morally_ responsible for him; you don’t get to decide what happens to the baby!” Jensen winces at the reminder that _none_ of them have the moral high ground, here.  
  
“And _you_ do?! You had sex with a child! You got a sixteen year old _pregnant_. My son ran away from home because of _you,_ and you think you get to make any decisions?!” He’s gone from off-white to beet-red, voice getting louder and louder; and Jensen is about to start in on how he’s right fucking _there_ , and that he’s not a goddamn _child_ ; when there’s a choked-off noise from the doorway.  
  
“A _Baby?_ ”  
  
Seems all the shouting had covered his mom’s entrance perfectly.

 

*********

 

Jared doesn’t know what a heart attack or a stroke feels like, but he can probably make an educated guess at this point.  
  
He’s trying to ignore the rapidly-building sense of floundering panic at the thought that he’s gonna be a father, and instead stay focused on Jensen’s.  
  
That goes to hell when there’s a sudden noise, and Jensen’s mother is just standing there by the door; looking as if she’s about to faint, or throw up. Maybe both.  
  
Jared knows exactly how she feels.  
  
“A baby?” She says again; hand gripping the edge of the frame so tight Jared expects to see imprints in the wood.  
  
Jensen‘s father goes to usher her out of the house. “Donna, maybe you should-”  
  
“You’re _pregnant?_ ” So high-pitched Jared’s surprised the dogs aren’t whining in answer.  
  
“Mom, I. I didn’t. I’m _sorry_.” Jared can’t stand there and listen to his mate sound like that; every choppy sentence and strangled sob cutting him like a knife.  
  
Paying no mind to the agitated parents hovering by the door; he pulls Jensen in again - gentler this time, brain repeating _pregnantbecareful_ \- and presses his nose into the beta’s hair; inhaling the sweet, cinnamon-like scent of his mate.  
  
“It’ll be okay.” Ignoring the way his own voice sounds, tries to force conviction into the words. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll do, okay? Nobody’s forcing you into _anything_.” Like he’s talking to a startled horse, eyes flicking up to Jensen’s family as he says it.  
  
Jensen gets the final say in this; no matter what Jared has to do.

 

“I wanna keep it.” Sounding so much like a child Jared can’t stop his flinch. “I’m keeping it.” More confident that time; defiance creeping in.  
  
“You _can’t_. You’re _sixteen_.” And God, Jared is gonna develop a lifelong complex about that number.  
  
“You haven’t even finished high school.” Jensen’s mom adds, like it needs pointing out, really.  
  
“I’m not giving up my baby.” Jensen turning his face from Jared’s chest, voice raw and eyes full of stubborn tears, and _fuck_ but Jared loves him _so much_.  
  
“Jensen, you. Please _think_ about this.” Desperation in his voice, and Jared feels something other than irritation toward the man for the first time since he got here.  
  
“I didn’t run away because of Jared.” Clearing his throat, sniffs and wipes his eyes on his shirt. “I ran because I knew you’d want me to give it up. And I _can’t_.” Last word pushed out as a sob, begging and broken and Jared is blinking hard to clear his eyes.  
  
They’ve apparently reached some kind of impasse, now. None of them are saying anything, all eyes on Jensen, most of them trying and failing not to cry.  
  
Jared vaguely wonders where his world went.  
  
“This could ruin your life.” Sad and helpless from Jensen’s dad, and Jared doesn’t get how he thinks that’s helpful.  
  
“It doesn’t have to.” He says; can’t let that just hang there.  
  
Donna suddenly seems to notice him “Don’t you try and get involved, you‘re the one who-”  
  
“ _Stop it!_ ” Jensen’s wrecked voice cutting her off. “He _is_ involved, mom. This is _his_ baby, too.” Tone beseeching as he finishes, and that really hasn’t sunk in yet; that it’s _their_ baby.  
  
There are tears on Donna’s face now, and Alan looks like he’s aged thirty years since Jensen spoke. Yeah; Jared is definitely feeling the guilt again, now; sick weight of it in his gut.  
  
“I feel like I should apologise.” He starts, Jensen turning toward him with a vague frown as his parents just look on blankly. “But I love your son. I’ve told you that. The baby complicates things, I know; but it doesn’t change that. Nothing could.” He figures brutal honesty is the only option he has left, now.  
  
“I love you.” Words aimed _at_ Jensen that time, tries to put as much of it into his expression as he can without breaking down completely. “I should’ve explained things to you myself from the very beginning. I’m never gonna be able to make up for letting you down, and I’m _so_ sorry I’ve put so much on you this soon; but I’ll stand by _your_ choices. I’ll be as involved or as uninvolved as you want me to be.” He can feel the tears running from his eyes; hear the way his voice is tight and rough, but at least he gets the words out.  
  
“Y-You mean that?” Jensen’s eyes scrutinising him even though he’s crying himself.  
  
“Every word. _Never_ doubt that.” _Just_ manages to speak around the sizable lump in his throat.  
  
“We aren’t going to be able to change your mind, are we?” Jared almost jumps at the sound of Alan’s voice; defeated and _so_ tired; doesn’t know which of them he’s talking to.  
  
“No.” Jensen says, before he can; stepping back a little into Jared’s body, and another tear runs from his mother’s eye as his dad’s fall shut and what sounds like years worth of air rushes from his nose.  
  
“He finishes school.” Alan says eventually, damp eyes determined as they fix to Jared’s.  
  
“Alan! We’re not going to just-”  
  
“ _Look_ at them, Don’.” He says, gesturing at where Jensen’s back is pressed to Jared’s front; decision in every tense line of him, unified front Jared didn‘t dare hope or ask for. “We either try and work with this, or we’ll lose him.” He’s crying now, too, and Jared can feel the way Jensen is trembling where they’re pressed together, but he doubts he can fix that, right now.  
  
Jensen’s mom is staring at her son like she’s never seen him before; has no idea who he is, and Jared can’t blame himself enough.

 

********

 

Jensen is shaking so hard his teeth are rattling. He’s honestly surprised Jared isn’t shaking along with him, with the way they’re pressed together.  
  
His momma is openly crying now; clinging to his dad like he’s all that’s holding her up, and Jared is doing much the same for him.  
  
There’s a divide between the two pairs of alpha and beta that somehow goes deeper than the few feet of hardwood floor between them. He isn’t sure when it happened, and he doesn’t know if he can cross it.  
  
He doesn’t know if he wants to.  
  
 _Jared loves him.  
_  
That thought is going ‘round in his head like a laughing child on a carousel; all bright colours and warmth and hope for whatever comes next. It’s a sharp contrast to the tight-fisted ball of pain and fear that’s squeezing something inside of him so hard he’s amazed he isn’t coughing blood.  
  
“He can stay here.” Words like low thunder, vibrating through him where Jared is pressed to his back. “If it would be easier for you. We live across the street from one another, there’s gotta be a way of arranging this so it’ll work for everyone.” He sounds _so_ in control, and Jensen might buy it if not for the way the alpha’s - _his_ alpha’s - knees are trembling against the backs of his thighs.  
  
His momma lets out another sob; sound like a railroad spike hammered into Jensen’s chest.  
  
“He finishes school.” His dad says again, like he’s mentally stuck on that one thought.  
  
“I was gonna, anyway.” He forces himself to speak, and it fucking _hurts,_ but he’s gotta say _something_. His dad gives him a jerky nod as his jaw works and he blinks hard.  
  
“What about money?” Asked to Jared that time, and Jensen is trying to believe this is all really happening.  
  
“I do alright for myself. I won’t ask you for anything. I can. I make enough to support us.” _Christ_ , _us_. His dad makes some vague head movement, clearly lost in contemplation somewhere.  
  
His momma still hasn’t spoken to him, even though she’s hardly looked anywhere else. He’s trying not to break the uneasy truce by shouting at her that he’s _still here_.  
  
“What do you want to do, son?” First time he’s been _asked_ anything in recent memory, and the word ‘son’ fills his lungs like air.  
  
“I. Dad, I.” Fuck he’s _trying,_ but his throat is raw and clogged and his brain is misfiring in all directions. They’re all just _watching him_ and he can’t focus and he needs to _answer_.  
  
“It’s up to you, Jen.” Voice soft as breath ruffles his hair. “I won’t keep you here if you don’t wanna stay.” He means it too, Jensen knows he does. Jared would actually watch him walk out that door and never come back and not say one word against it.  
  
Jensen doesn’t want to love him _more_ for that. He does anyway, though.  
  
That’s what really makes it click in the end; the knowledge that this unfathomably kind and _loving_ man will stand in this _stupid_ fucking hallway, and watch Jensen leave if he said it was what he wanted. He’d never ask for anything; never demand anything; he’d just stay away in his empty house across the street and _love_ and keep it all to himself.  
  
Mating isn't _always_ for life, he knows. It’d be excruciatingly painful; emotionally and physically, but the bond _is_ breakable with time and effort. Jensen could have his baby and try and reassemble his life, and Jared could try and find a beta that doesn’t come with so much baggage.  
  
Except Jensen doesn’t want that. For either of them.  
  
“I’ll stay.” A whisper that carries like a gale, almost knocks his mother back against the door. His dad gives a pinched smile that isn’t a real smile, and some cracked exhale leaves Jared’s lungs like a bubble popping.  
  
“You’re sure?” Jared’s hands on both his shoulders, bracketing him from behind, and he feels so _safe_ it’s just absurd. Jensen can’t help the almost-humourless laugh; that Jared is _still_ not-quite trying to let him go even as he clearly doesn’t want him to.  
  
Jensen thinks loving Jared is probably the smartest, stupidest, and most important thing he’s ever gonna do.  
  
“I want to stay.” Said with actual volume this time, and Jared’s hands grip his shoulders a little tighter.

 

********

 

Jared can’t feel his feet, his toes, _anything_ that connects him to the ground that isn’t his hands on Jensen’s shoulders; the feel of the warm skin through his shirt.  
  
He’s tired; worn-thin and wrung-out, and he just wants to close his eyes and let it all fall away for awhile. Except it won't; because his mate wants to _stay_ with him, and wants to keep _their_ baby and Jared is starting to - _maybe_ \- believe that Jensen’s parents are actually going to _let him_.  
  
He was honestly prepared for Jensen to leave. Or at least, he was bracing himself for it; the crushing and grinding _pain_ of rejection that he would _never_ have let Jensen see, or allowed himself to express in view of his parents.  
  
But apparently that pain isn’t coming.  
  
The absence of it has left him feeling like he’s floating, and yet somehow closer to the ground than he’s ever been his whole life; turns of rope in his stomach uncoiling and drifting in empty space; relief like another person under his skin.  
  
 _Jensen wants to stay._  
  
He could get that tattooed on the insides of his eyelids and it would still feel like a dream.  
  
Jared has had this dream before.  
  
Donna finally makes a move to say something; throat working visibly and making effort to clear her eyes - Jensen’s eyes, he’s _just_ noticed, and he can’t help the way it endears her to him. Her mouth moves silently for a second, and then she seems to think something disdainful of the yawning space between them, and takes a halting step forward.  
  
Jared feels Jensen press a little closer to him, and his hands fold over Jensen’s front without even thinking about it; fingers pointing down and thumbs fitting over collarbones. It’s a small gesture, meaningless barrier of skin and tiny bones, but Jensen relaxes a little, and Alan seems to be fixated on Donna as she stops in front of them to notice anyway.  
  
Every part of Jensen that Jared can feel pressed against him like this is locked up, tensing for some kind of impending blow. Jared knows whatever she says now will either be a first step or a final push. He just wishes he knew which it was gonna be.  
  
“You love this man?” Soft and tone indefinable; no acknowledgment of Jared as she focuses on her son’s face, and Jared has the sudden off-putting sense of being an intruder.  
  
“I. Yes momma.” His mate sounding _so_ young in that moment that Jared almost physically jerks with the swift rush of protectiveness. Donna lets out the most drawn-out sigh Jared has ever heard, and her chin drops to her chest, eyes closing.  
  
She looks so _small_ , he suddenly thinks; face lined with age and stress and undried tears; both him and Jensen almost towering above her head, and Jared can't explain any of what he's feeling, now. Her head lifts, and she seems to be looking _through_ them to someplace else.  
  
“When you were just a little boy.” She starts, and Jared is knocked sideways a little by the abrupt change in tone. “You used to talk about being an astronaut.” Jared clenches his teeth against the broken noise in his throat that he doesn’t even know the meaning of.  
  
“I remember.” Jensen says, soft and fond enough that Jared allows himself a small flare of hope for wherever this is going.  
  
“You had so many dreams.” She says, not sad but sounding _lost_ and maybe afraid, and _God_ Jared is praying so _hard_ that this isn’t going to end with a severing of ties; with a dismissal Jared will never be able to fix or relieve the pain of.  
  
“I have other dreams now, mom.” A small noise from both Jared _and_ Donna that’s so alike in tone and feeling it makes him wonder.  
  
“You’re _still_ my little boy.” Tears in the words and eyes _so_ like Jensen’s that Jared can’t fixate on one single reaction. “I just want you to have a _life_. I don‘t want you to have to grow up yet.” New line of moisture tumbling down her cheek, and Jared can feel Jensen trembling, is selfishly glad he doesn’t have to look at his mate’s no-doubt equally wet face in this moment, doesn‘t think he could bear it.  
  
“I can still have a life, momma.” He’s definitely crying; Jared can hear it even if he can’t see it. “Maybe not the life I thought, or the one you wanted, but that doesn’t make it bad, right?” It’s a question and it isn’t, and Jared doesn’t know how much Donna’s answer will change things.

 

“Oh sweetheart, I just don’t want you to _regret_ this.” Pure honesty and caring, undiluted by whatever she might think of Jared or JaredandJensen, and he can’t help but love her for it, a little.  
  
“I. I don’t know what’s gonna happen.” Voice tremulous and breakable, and Jared tries not to react until he finishes. “But I. I won’t. I mean, you don’t regret _me_ , right?” It’s his answer and a deep-rooted fear all in one, and Jared fucking _aches_ to hear it.  
  
“No, no Jensen of _course_ not. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done.” She means it, there’s less than no question of that.  
  
“Then, I won’t regret this. I _don’t_ regret Jared, mom. And I. I don’t see how I’d regret this baby, either. I _love_ him, mom.” Pleading, either for belief or understanding; and Jared’s heart is stuck fast somewhere in his larynx.  
  
“If there’s ever a moment when he wants to leave, I’ll let him.” He says, first time he’s actually _spoken_ to Donna since she got here, first time they’ve looked at each other with something that isn’t inherently unpleasant since that night, what feels like decades ago. “I _promise_.” Said with every ounce of sincerity he has in him, word like something tangible falling from his tongue.  
  
She looks at him; green eyes and a stare that makes him feel half an inch tall, and seems to resolve herself at whatever he’s showing on his face, albeit with no small amount of grief.  
  
“It won’t be easy.” Clearly not pleased, addressing both of them; and _that’s_ probably the most understated thing he’s ever heard; it’s quite likely gonna be a few degrees off of impossible, but he knows he’s gonna do it anyway.  
  
“We can discuss all the details and living arrangements later.” And Jared flushes in embarrassment at how he’d forgotten Alan was still standing there. “Maybe we should just, leave it there for now, and pick things up after we’ve all had some time to think.” Jared is so very grateful at the offer of reprieve that he wants to hug the other man, even though part of him is thinking they want to give Jensen time to change his mind.  
  
Donna doesn’t say anything else, but she kisses Jensen on the cheek; wipes away whatever tears have fallen, and gives Jared a _look_ that quite clearly says _‘hurt my son and you’ll pay’_ before she gets a hug from Alan and they’re suddenly heading out the door, snick of the catch like a gavel banging in the silence.

 

********

  
Jensen’s head is spinning a little.  
  
His mom just went from a to b to c, and then out the door before he could take any of it in. Now he’s standing pressed to Jared’s back, just staring at the closed wooden door like his parents are about to burst back in and drag him away - _again_.  
  


Two minutes pass. Five. Eight.

 

Nothing happens.  
  
“What just happened?” He says, not really processing; just has to break the way the air has gone so _still_.  
  
“A recess, I think.” Jared sounds much like he does; confused and hopeful and tired and like he’s been crying.  
  
 _Christ,_ Jensen is so _sick_ of crying.  
  
He turns in Jared’s arms, tries to blink the grit from behind his eyes. He probably looks really gross; red-rimmed and tear-streaked with bags under his eyes and hair everywhere, and he feels some distant pulse of indignity that he just had the biggest conversation of his life in his freaking _underwear_.  
  
Jared looks more or less how Jensen feels; eyes swollen and red, mouth bitten and sore, stubble on his face and hair a little wild where he’s either not showered in a couple’a days or had his hands tugging at it. He’s looking at Jensen like he’s made of glass or mist; as if he’s waiting for him to break; to dissolve and leave him standing there in this _stupid_ goddamn _hallway_.  
  
“I hate this hallway.” He says, again without really meaning to, and Jared makes a surprised sobbing noise that’s _almost_ a laugh, eyes welling up and jaw working.  
  
“We’ll redecorate later.” And Jensen can’t help the way he cracks up a little, some of the giggling finally breaking free from exhaustion as he presses his face to Jared’s chest, beat of his heart against Jensen’s forehead, big arms wrapped around him and crossed in the middle of his back.  
  
“Hey. Look at me?” Words so tentative and undemanding, and _God_ it _hurts_ how much he loves this man.  
  
He raises his head and smiles at the gut-wrenching openness and _devotion_ shining in the alpha’s slanted blue-green eyes, and one of his hands is tucking strands of hair behind Jared‘s ear, when his mate finds whatever words he was struggling for.  
  
“A baby, huh?” Hint of a smile, small flash of dimples and Jensen’s breath leaves him in a laughing sigh, palm resting on the side of Jared‘s perfect, prickly face.  
  
“Yeah.” All air and no voice, but there’s something bordering on fatigued happiness breaking out across Jared’s expression, now.  
  
“And you. You love me?” Words rough with insecurity and more than a little fear, and Jensen wants to kiss him and knock him over the head at the same time.  
  
“Yeah, I really do.” Feels the smile tugging at his own lips, skin tight and pulling a little from all the saltwater drying on it.  
  
“Well that’s okay, then.” Jared says quietly; like it makes sense; like he’s _got_ nothing else to say, and Jensen's smile gets a little wider.  
  
“Yeah, I’d say it’s a pretty good start.”


End file.
